


Propriety is a Hassle

by literaryoblivion



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [98]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, First Kiss, Holding Hands, M/M, Sterek Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5089805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryoblivion/pseuds/literaryoblivion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The room is crowded, filled with women in laced corsets and big poofy hoop skirts covered in yards and yards of brightly colored fabrics, men in high-waisted trousers, tight vests, coats with tails, and silky cravats that choked. There is a small string quartet playing music in the corner, but other than hearing it amidst the gaps in conversation, no one pays it any mind. Waiters in bow-ties walk around with glasses of champagne and trays of h’orderves that upon closer inspection are rubbish.</p><p>It is all a bit much for Stiles.</p><p>Not that he can say anything about it, though. He is here for a reason, and that reason is standing along the back wall brooding in his dark brown overcoat, white fluffy cravat, and incredibly tight pants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Propriety is a Hassle

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [Sterek Week](http://sterekweek2015.tumblr.com/post/128660712591/announcement). It was originally going to be something else entirely (a surprise modern AU that started out sounding historical), but that is not how it went. So instead have a vague “not sure what time period this actually is but there’s cravats” historical AU.

The room is crowded, filled with women in laced corsets and big poofy hoop skirts covered in yards and yards of brightly colored fabrics, men in high-waisted trousers, tight vests, coats with tails, and silky cravats that choke. There is a small string quartet playing music in the corner, but other than hearing it amidst the gaps in conversation, no one pays it any mind. Waiters in bow-ties walk around with glasses of champagne and trays of h’orderves that upon closer inspection are rubbish.

It is all a bit much for Stiles.

Not that he can say anything about it, though. He is here for a reason, and that reason is standing along the back wall brooding in his dark brown overcoat, white fluffy cravat, and incredibly tight pants.

God, Derek is so hot.

 _Focus, Stiles_ , he tells himself, trying to refocus on the task at hand. He hates Derek, loathes him, even, well at least he is supposed to. But, Derek makes it so damn hard looking like he does. It is unfair, really. He could hate him for that reason, he supposes.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles squares his shoulders and starts making his way through the crowd towards Derek. Derek, to his credit, does not notice Stiles at all, choosing to stare angrily at the group of tittering women to his right.

Stiles is sure they are talking about Derek, about how he’s one of the most eligible bachelors at the soiree, how he also owns half the country-side, how he has no mother and therefore no mother-in-law for his future spouse to deal with, how he comes to these things both because he has to and because he’s a bit of a romantic and is hoping to meet someone.

Of course, Stiles is sure the women aren’t talking about that last part. Derek broods and sometimes literally growls too much for anyone to think him a closet romantic. But, that’s because they don’t know Derek like he does. And Stiles tries to not feel prideful of this secret knowledge, nor jealous of the women and some men who claim to know Derek so well. He has no right to those feelings, or any others he may feel because of or towards Derek. He can’t. He’s not supposed to.

Because he hates him. Right. Because it’s Derek and his wealth and his fortune and his family’s name that has caused his own name and father to be suffering, trying to get by on what little they have and still keep up the appearance like nothing is wrong and that they have the money to pay the bills and still afford things like a carriage and extravagant suits. (They don’t actually. The suit he’s wearing now is actually Scott’s.)

So he should hate Derek. He should despise everything about him. But he doesn’t.

He can’t. Not after how he came by that little bit of information about Derek wanting to find a companion, longing for romance.

After that whole experience, Stiles’s thoughts, feelings, actions, and attitude towards Derek has changed. He’s not the man everyone thinks him to be, and the rumors of his sour demeanor don’t hold true for those he’s close to. And God help him, Stiles wants to be one of those people. He wants to get close to Derek, for Derek to find him a suitable companion, not for the sake of his livelihood but because he might sincerely care for Derek, might even love, especially if his feelings were returned.

Which is why he is here, seeking out Derek. He needs to ask him, to get him alone, away from these people so he can ask if his feelings would ever be requited.

When he finally approaches Derek, standing in his line of vision so that he’s no longer frowning at the women but at Stiles, he gives him a warm smile. Derek’s face softens slightly, and his frown looks less angry and more contemplative.

“Would you care to accompany me on a walk through the gardens?” Stiles asks, stepping a little closer to Derek so he can be heard by Derek and not anyone else.

Derek doesn’t answer right away, instead takes in Stiles’s appearance, his eyes raking down over Stiles’s frame and back up again. Stiles tries not to think of it as anything inappropriate, but it does make him hot under the collar.

“I suppose some exercise might be good,” Derek finally answers, turning and walking towards the back entrance doors without waiting to see if Stiles is following.

Once he catches up, Stiles walks by Derek’s side and then takes the lead to guide him out on to the patio and down the steps to the garden. Neither of them say a word to each other until they’ve reached the row of hedges that serves as the entrance to the gardens. It’s dark out, the moon high in the sky, but there are lit lanterns scattered around the garden and along the pathway for things to still be visible.

“Was there a particular reason you brought me out here, or did you really want me to admire the flowers?” Derek asks, tone bordering on anger, but Stiles thinks it’s only because he is unsure what Stiles wants of him.

“While I’m sure that Ms. Martin’s flowers are worthy of great praise, that is not why I asked you to come here with me.” Derek raises an eyebrow, waiting. “I… had a question to ask of you, well several, but it all hinges on the first.”

“And what question is that?”

Stiles steps in closer, closer than propriety would allow but not so close that they’re touching, although Stiles would not be opposed.

“Do you… do you think about those few days that we spent together at the cottage?” Stiles asks, eyes imploring.

Derek’s eyes widen slightly before looking down at his feet. The lantern nearby gives enough light for Stiles to see a small blush form on Derek’s cheeks, which is confirmation enough of Derek’s answer, but he still needs to hear it aloud.

“Yes,” Derek answers, voice soft. “I think about it all the time… about _you_ all the time.”

And this time it’s Stiles who blushes. He didn’t think Derek would go so far as to admit it up front, not without some prodding from Stiles. But he has, and Stiles’s heart flutters at the implications.

“I do, too, Derek. I… I can’t stop thinking about you, actually.”

At his words, Derek’s gaze snaps up to his face. He looks a mixture of surprised and pleased. “It seems we have both suffered the same predicament.”

“It does appear that way. What do you suggest we do about it?” Stiles asks, lips quirking up in a smirk, his tone teasing.

Derek’s blush grows, but he doesn’t answer, instead shrugging his shoulders.

Stiles lifts his hand, lets his fingertips graze down Derek’s arm, not missing the shiver it causes, stopping at his wrist to wrap his fingers around it. “I had an idea, if you’d like to hear it?” When Derek nods, Stiles goes on, “Derek, would you do me the honor of allowing me to court you? I can’t offer much by way of gifts, but I am wonderful company.”

Derek grins, twisting his hand so that he can free his wrist from Stiles’s grasp and then lace their fingers together. “I very much like that idea. I accept.”

With a small squeeze of his hand, Stiles beams. “Would it be wildly inappropriate and against all propriety if I were to kiss you right now? Would you judge me less for such an action?”

“In some ways I think propriety is a hassle, and no one is around anyway. And, I won’t judge you as long as you don’t judge me for kissing back.”

“Deal,” Stiles whispers before pulling Derek into a kiss. It’s short and mostly chaste, although there’s a hint of something more from both of them, but they both restrain themselves. They’ll have plenty of time for more kisses and more intimacy. But for now, this is good. This is perfect. And Stiles can’t wait for more of these moments with Derek.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [my tumblr](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com) or [my twitter](http://twitter.com/lit_oblivion).


End file.
